


Red Boots

by MaladaptiveNinjaReturns



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 18:16:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18451994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaladaptiveNinjaReturns/pseuds/MaladaptiveNinjaReturns
Summary: Warm summer noon in the arms of your lover...and a pair of red boots.





	Red Boots

“Ravioli?”  
Your giggles fill the air, making Loki pause and bathe in the afternoon sun immersed in the tears of pure joy collecting in the corner of your eyes.  
“Yes,” you state in between light breaths, still trying to compose yourself in his arms.  
“As in the dish, we eat?” he asks with genuine curiosity trying to flood over his features but failing as he tucks you inside the blanket while your hands work with the corners to cover him up.  
“Why would someone name their child after something you eat?”  
Loki feels your shoulders shrug over his chest as you shake your head. “I have no idea.”  
You lean your head over his now warm chest, allowing your cheeks to rest over the green cotton fabric, breathing in the citrus scent of the body wash he uses in the shower, easing your nerves bit by bit.  
“That’s not all,” you continue, hearing Loki’s languid heartbeat so clearly, “I had a friend who was named Truth. I would always imagine her mother standing in the kitchen, going, _why did you lie, Truth_?”  
Loki chuckles, the action vibrating through his front and filling you up with the best light. His hand comes to stroke your hair, his lips still carrying a smile on imagining your surprising thoughts.  
“When we were kids, Thor and I, we had a servant by the name Baldi, which is supposed to mean bold. Once Heimdall let us in on the knowledge about how bald means something else on Midgard and you can imagine what we did to that poor Asgardian who used to shine just like our nearest sun on the top of his head. Quite appropriately.”  
This time you both break into free giggles, feeling your bodies shake at something so minor yet delightful to the ears. Even through the warm bubbles of carefree laughter, Loki holds you close in his arms on the couch you both rest on.  
“Wow, I hope no one up there was named Ballsy.”  
Loki’s groan followed by a pressed-lips silence breaks you again, this time making you hold your stomach together as you try to control your laughter.  
The living room glows with the light reflecting on the grey wooden flooring, dust bunnies visibly dancing about in the air, twisting and turning, some just merely floating till they can find a surface to touch.   
“Okay. Hmm. What about Honour?”  
The tiny breakfast table by the side of the little kitchen lays stacked with books and two empty teacups.   
“I could make an entire diss track on that name. Get it? Get it? _Diss_ -honour.”  
A box painted in red and lined with gold sits by the coffee table next to your huddled figures cosied up in the soft noon.  
“And my brother thought I was the only one,” Loki groans, absent-mindedly running his fingers up and down your arms while his other hand rests upon yours still holding on to your stomach.  
Beside the box lies an open envelope addressed to you and Loki in the most refined running calligraphy.  
“I wonder if I can make fun of Heimdall’s name in some way,” you mutter, already thinking about it.  
“I can feel him rolling his eyes at us right now,” Loki acknowledges, messaging your knuckles before planting his lips on your temple.  
A letter lies open beside the envelope, written in hand.  
“I think I know what’s the best one yet,” you assert, looking up at the brilliant green tourmalines gazing down into you.  
 _Morgan sends her love in the form of some crayon portraits of her niece’s fam. And a little something from wifey and me._  
Love,  
Pepper + Tony  
-the letter reads.  
“What?”  
You wiggle a little in your comfort den that is Loki before taking his hands and placing them over your belly.  
“Frigga,” you announce, undoing the worry lines over the God’s forehead.  
The red box contains drawing sheets filled with a child’s display of wonderful caricatures of a stick figure dressed in green all over with a horned helmet on top of its head while another stick figure stands by him, its Y/H/C hair colour flowing elegantly from the top of the head. The Y/E/C eyes are huge and so is the smile while a little stick figure holds this one by what seems like their hand. Green eyes are predominantly drawn in the tiny facial circle. Beside the drawings lie the tiniest human pair of red boots.  
“Frigga,” Loki exhales with satisfaction- his inside glowing more than the sunlight engulfing the two of you right now- and kisses your forehead, filling you with love to the brim.

His hands gently rub your belly.  
“Frigga.”


End file.
